


I saw mommy rimming santa claus

by zaynandlouis



Category: Big Brother RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Christmas, Christmas Crack, Costumes, Crack, Dress Up, Frottage, M/M, Overstimulation, Roleplay, Sex Toys, mentions of rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynandlouis/pseuds/zaynandlouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"@FrankieJGrande: santa claus IS coming to town... And I really hope he's wearing that red pantsuit onesie. [heart eyes emoji]"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I saw mommy rimming santa claus

**Author's Note:**

> santa fetish crack smut that like, actually isn't crack at all. 
> 
> title from my friend mary, who's known on tumblr as isawmommyrimmingsantaclaus around the holidays. toy mentioned can be found on toydirty.com, and thank you to amanda for being my beta, as always. 
> 
> happy holidays, y'all.

 

maybe the santa at the department store frankie visited as a child didn’t get the “never let a kid straddle your leg” memo, or maybe joan sat him and ariana down for too many lifetime and hallmark holiday specials where santa plays match maker for a straight couple. frankie really doesn’t know when or why the fetish started, he just knows he really likes santa claus. like, a _lot_.

until now, he’d never seriously thought about indulging the fantasy. it wasn’t that he was embarrassed to tell guys about the fetish, it’s just that none of his past partners were what he was looking for.

in college, frankie had a specific type and that type was twinky. baby-faced, barely-legal boys don’t exactly scream father christmas. during his phase of only dating closeted men, frankie had a bit of a thing for dads and, well, asking the guy who’s separated from his wife and three year old daughter because he’s fucking you to wear a santa suit and let you sit on his lap hadn’t seemed like it’d go over well.

zach, though, zach is perfect. it’d taken frankie a little while to realize it, but zach is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

it was never a question of if zach would be up for it. zach thrives off frankie’s approval and will do just about anything to get it, and frankie knows that. the frat boy persona was what threw him off.

was, because as soon as you get zach in a bed and out of his clothes, his potential really shines through. he’s pliant and obedient, practically a well-trained dog.

and sometimes, he _is_ a well-trained dog. but that’s another story.

he propositions zach after sex one night, because every man’s best mood is post-orgasm.

"do you like when we roleplay?" he asks, running his fingertips lightly over zach’s chest.

"what kind of question is that?" zach laughs. his chest is still heaving slightly and frankie can still see sweat pooled at his hairline.

"so yes?"

"yes," zach assures. "definitely, yes."

frankie considers this while he gets them a warm rag to clean up with.

"remember when we talked about fantasies and i said i have one i’ve never told anyone about?" frankie questions, rubbing the rag over zach’s sticky thigh.

zach thinks about it for a minute before nodding. “yeah, why?”

"well, it kind of has something to do with the holidays, and it’s december now, so…" frankie didn’t expect to be so timid about it. he can’t meet zach’s eyes, staring at the half-dried cum on zach’s hip instead, and he’s starting to think it’s not even worth bringing up.

"do you wanna fuck santa or something?" zach jokes when frankie trails off. he says it like it’s hilarious, like "fuck santa" is a punchline all on it’s own. frankie gives him a pointed look and raises an eyebrow. zach’s face goes from amused to confused and then, " _oh_."

"yeah," frankie confirms. zach’s skin is turning a little bit pink under his insistent scrubbing.

"like... santa suit? ‘ho, ho, ho’? you’ve been a bad boy and now you’re on the naughty list?"

and okay, frankie’s not really into the whole jolly belly laugh, but the naughty list line has him swallowing thickly.

"i don’t exactly want you to, like, grow a white beard, or something, but yeah. pretty much." frankie nods, folding the now cold rag and tossing it on top of their pile of clothes on the floor.

"as long as i don’t have to wear a fat suit," zach starts, cracking a smile. frankie goes wide-eyed.

"you don’t think it’s like... weird?"

"i mean… i guess. i’m jewish, so we don’t really do christmas. but if you’re into it…"

frankie doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

 

* * *

 

frankie spares no expense. he’s been waiting for this way too long to be cheap.

surprisingly, frankie had no knowledge of the existence of candy cane dildos previous to clicking “add to cart”. the one he orders is glass, thick, and glistening in the display picture on the website. the description talks about warming it in the microwave or putting it in the freezer to cool it, and it makes frankie squirm in anticipation.

no matter what kink, frankie usually fills the dominant role and zach the submissive. zach naturally wants to feel vulnerable and dominated and frankie has always enjoyed being in control. for the most part, if frankie wants to feel full, they use toys. it enables frankie to still be and feel dominant, bossing zach around and only letting him cum once he himself has.

it all works very well for them, but frankie thinks maybe, just maybe, this time he might let zach be a little bit dominant. he thinks it might be nice to take a break from directing and controlling and just let himself enjoy the fantasy.

he gets the santa suit delivered straight to a tailor, one he’s given zach’s measurements to beforehand. fortunately, a fat suit, nor fake beard, are part of frankie’s fantasy, because they’re fifty extra a piece. he thinks it’s no wonder those mall santas are always in bad moods when they have to shell out the big minimum wage bucks just for their work uniform.

by christmas eve, the toy and suit have arrived, their tree is up, and there are homemade sugar cookies baking in the oven. they’d discussed it ten times over and finally decided that frankie would go to bed without zach, waking up to santa coming down the chimney in the night. except, zach actually coming down the chimney in any way had been vetoed. even without a big, jolly belly, they weren’t sure zach would fit down it. santa isn’t so sexy stuck between bricks and covered in soot.

"well, honey, i think i’ll be off to bed," frankie simpers. he leans down to kiss zach’s cheek, wrapping his silk robe back around him when he straightens up. he feels like a seductive housewife, like the tune of ‘santa baby’ should be drifting in from the next room.

"i’ll be up in a bit, babe," zach calls, hearing frankie’s feet pattering up the hardwood stairs.

by the time he gets upstairs and into bed, he’s semi-hard under the sheets. every time he moves so much as a inch, the fabric provides him with fleeting friction. he can’t stop thinking about it, thinking about how zach’s going to look dressed up as santa and how the candy cane is going to feel inside him (cold, he presumes, since zach promised to slip it in the freezer when the cookie timer goes off).

 

* * *

 

when the sounds of zach rummaging around downstairs wake frankie, the alarm clock reads half past two. it’s later than they intended to start, and he thinks zach must have fell asleep. still in the housewife mindset, he briefly considers applying some concealer and mascara before going downstairs, but he figures the living room will be dim, and it’s not like zach doesn’t see his bare face daily. plus, if he had, it would have sweat off anyways.

as he makes his way down the stairs, tip-toeing for effect, he can smell burnt cookies and the pine needle candle he’d left burning. it doesn’t exactly scream sex, but then again neither does santa claus for most people.

"zach? oh, zach?" he calls once he reaches the bottom of the steps. he knows he’s being cheesy, acting like he’s in a bad eighties swingers porno, but he honestly can’t help it. this is all so surreal. he can’t believe zach is willing, even eager, to do this for him.

"ho, ho, ho." and oh, good, zach’s just as cheesy and bad at roleplay as he is.

frankie is embarrassingly already hard, evident by the bulge in his underwear as he walks over to zach. the mixture of childish delight and arousal is intoxicating.

"sweetheart, why don’t you sit down on santa’s lap and tell him what you want for christmas?" zach smiles, patting his lap.

frankie climbs in zach’s lap, straddling one of his thighs. one of his knees presses into zach’s crotch, and he wants zach to get hard so he can feel him. he wraps his arms around zach’s shoulders, twirling the fluffy ball at the end of the santa hat around with his fingers.

"i’ve been such a good boy, santa," frankie nods, his voice young and boyish. he opens his eyes wide and lets his bottom lip pout out a little bit, faking innocence.

"well, baby," and oh, frankie likes this whole pet name thing, far too used to being the one giving them out. "santa didn’t see you on the nice list this year."

"but, santa..." he whines, starting to rut against zach’s thigh softly. he loves the scratch and drag of the costume fabric against his own thighs. "can’t you make an exception? i promise i’ve been a _real_ good boy."

 

* * *

  
  
by the time frankie’s on his back, he’s leaking and whimpering, and he can’t imagine why he was ever so adamant about being dominant.

while his head’s between frankie’s legs, zach feeds him this line, “you taste like peppermint candy”, and it makes frankie wonder if everyone has a suppressed santa fetish that they just need incited.

frankie thinks he’s died and gone to the north pole, though, when zach reaches inside a red velvet bag with white drawstrings (something frankie never ordered and can only assume zach got on his own) and pulls out the candy cane dildo and a bottle of lube.

it’s wide, stretching him more than he had expected it to. it’s cold too, zach apparently having remembered to put it in the freezer despite letting the cookies burn. the lube is warm, and the contrast makes frankie’s breath hitch in his throat.

zach, who usually goes slow and careful when using toys on frankie, insistently presses the dildo deeper until frankie can feel the part of the cane that comes down on the other side of the curve pushing against his taint. frankie’s not sure if that’s on purpose, or just a happy accident, but it only makes his mind go hazier.

"please," he begs, spreading his legs that he’d unconsciously recoiled from the intensity of the pressure. he hooks one over the back of the couch and groans when the dildo slips just the slightest bit deeper, which frankie didn’t think was possible.

zach starts to thrust the candy cane in and out, slowly at first to make sure he’s stretched frankie enough and used enough lube. even though he’s enjoying his new-found dominance, it’s a bit overwhelming. he’s used to frankie’s guidance, and now he has to figure everything out on his own. the whimpers and gasps coming from frankie assure him that he’s not doing the worst job of it.

"you have been a good boy," zach tells him, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to his lips, "so tight and _so_ good for me."

barely able to catch his breath, frankie writhes and vainly attempts to open his legs even wider. it’s so much, the shorter end of the candy cane hitting his taint every time the end buried inside him hits his prostate. it’s so much that it almost hurts and, for frankie, the pain only mixes with the pleasure and makes it all ten times more intense.

he’s pulls his lips away from zach’s, arching his back and trying desperately to fuck himself back down against the toy. he can’t think, can only sit and take it and ask zach for it harder.

usually when frankie has sex, he can gauge when he’s going to finish. he can silently access the ache in his muscles, or the harshness of his breathing, or how tight the knot in his stomach is, and tell how much more he needs. this time, there’s too many feelings to focus on; the dip in the couch where zach uses one hand to support his weight, both blunt ends of the candy cane, the sensitive spot where his neck and shoulder meet that zach can’t keep his mouth off of, the almost uncomfortable bend of his elbows as he shifts his hands from zach’s back to his shoulders. they distract him, consume him, and he doesn’t feel himself getting close to the edge until he’s one thrust from nose-diving off it.

cum coats his stomach and zach’s, or rather, the santa suit. the sticky off-white liquid splattered across baggy red fabric and framed by white faux fur trim is a work of art, and frankie wants to take a picture to put on the mantel.


End file.
